


The Only Real Remedy

by Adarog (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Female Character of Color, Missing Scene, POV Female Character, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-20
Updated: 2009-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/Adarog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen is the moon to Morgana's tides, a strong bright reliable goddess who penetrates the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Real Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene from episode 2x01, "The Curse of Cornelius Sigan".

Morgana accepts the cup from Gwen's hand and dutifully drinks it down, grimacing at the taste. Gwen added the potion to wine, of course, but the taste is still there, bitter and faintly rotten. Morgana has drunk so many of Gaius' potions mixed with wine that she's beginning to feel like a sot.

Nevertheless, she drains the cup and puts it aside. Gwen instantly reaches for it, to take it away and rinse it, but Morgana stops her, a hand on Gwen's wrist. She'll drink the potions because she has to, but when it comes to the nightmares, Gwen is her only real remedy.

With a noiseless sigh, Gwen puts down the cup and reaches for the tie of her apron. A moment later, she's blowing out the candle and sliding under the covers next to Morgana. Morgana wraps her arms around Gwen and burrows in against Gwen's breasts, holding her tight. Gwen hangs on, stroking her mistress's hair and whispering silly soothing words.

Morgana loves the scent of Gwen's skin, earthy yet clean, like a good field after a spring rain. Gwen's hands smell of herbs and flowers, and her plain white gowns of carefully applied starch. Morgana loves the taste of Gwen's fine arched collarbone and of her full lips, sweet enough to wipe away the rotten undertones of the wine and, for the moment, the memory of the threatening raven, swooping down out of a moonlit sky. Gwen is the moon to Morgana's tides, a strong bright reliable goddess who penetrates the dark.

Busy fingers untie strings, busy lips nibble and taste. Morgana seizes on a plum-dark nipple; Gwen kneads Morgana's shoulders as Morgana suckles and lips. When she gets Gwen to whimper aloud, she shifts to the other breast, one hand twined with Gwen's, the other tugging the nipple she just left. Her next victory is not a whimper, but the slow parting of Gwen's legs, the arch of her hips calling for more.

Fortunate for Morgana, though unfortunate for Gwen, that Gwen sleeps in the castle now, not far from her mistress' bed. With Tom gone--and that thought still makes Morgana's throat tighten, let alone Gwen's--Gwen has no one to go home to, no one to look after, except for Morgana. Morgana, of course, has no one looking after her except Gwen. Not really. Uther may be her warden, Arthur her protector, Merlin her friend, but only Gwen has Morgana's best interests at heart.

Morgana has Gwen's interests at heart, too. She knows just how to find her way through the tight thickets of Gwen's dark curls and find the hidden valley, salute the hard nub that rises like a standing stone, and seek out the sweet sweet waters that she licks off her fingers like honey. Inside of Gwen is a darkness that Morgana never need fear, that yields to her knowing fingers and spills out pleasure for both of them. She smothers Gwen's cries with her other hand and then with her mouth, holds the other girl until she stops shaking.

She is far more brazen than Gwen when Gwen strokes her thigh and gives her that shy, expectant look. She spreads her legs wide, quickly, eagerly, so that Gwen can nestle between them and kiss her where she longs to be kissed. Morgana's waters flow, and she bites her own hand to keep from shouting her joy. Gwen's lips are so soft, her tongue so strong and insistent, her thirst to give pleasure insatiable and irresistible.

At last Morgana goes limp, dreaming a little of pleasant things. A soft moist kiss from Gwen wakes her up just a bit, her own scent and taste now mingled with Gwen's, salt and honey, flowers and earth. Then Gwen is pulling the covers up around her, nestling her head into Morgana's shoulder. Morgana starts to yawn but then she's asleep, cradled in a blissful darkness without dreams.


End file.
